


Masquerade

by MissNightTigress



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Costume Parties & Masquerades, F/M, FrostIron - Freeform, IronFrost - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-06-21
Updated: 2012-06-21
Packaged: 2017-11-16 20:41:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/543620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissNightTigress/pseuds/MissNightTigress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Natasha Stark is hosting her annual charity ball once more, but this year is different. This year, there's a special unexpected guest...one who has a few surprises up his sleeve just for her...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Masquerade

Natasha rolled in her satin sheets as her body twisted itself into comfortable sleeping positions. It was the first night she got any real sleep since the battle with Loki so many weeks ago, and JARVIS really didn’t want to disturb her. If he didn’t, she’d be late for her appointment.

“Miss Stark?”

His futile attempt was met with a snore as a response. So, he tried again.

“Miss Stark?”

A moan this time. That was better than a snore.

The steel door at the other end of the long modernly-decorated bedroom clanged open, and a tall man stepped through. His messy hair was a dark auburn color, sleek glasses covering his bright blue eyes and a navy business suit covering his body. In his firm right hand was an Android tablet. His eyes glanced up at the ceiling before he spoke in a decibel just above a whisper. “I’ll handle this, JARVIS.”

“Yes, Mr. Parker.”

Peter stepped towards the king-sized bed and looked down at the sleeping CEO. He knew Toni (as she liked to call herself to keep the confusion between her and Agent Romanoff at a minimum) had been working late recently, making modifications to the Iron Woman suit and overseeing the new renovations to Stark Tower thanks to the one the Avengers call Loki. However, this fundraiser wasn’t going to host itself. “Wake up, Toni.”

The girl rolled over, her foot swinging out and catching the back of Peter’s knee as she grumbled, “Go away. I didn’t answer the first two times. What the hell makes you think I’d answer the third?”

“How many cocktails did you drink last night, Toni?”

Her hands clenched the black comforter as she pulled it over her head. “None.”

“She had six, followed by that many shots of Absolut whipped cream vodka,” JARVIS chirped.

“I’m deprogramming you and using you for scraps, you rat.”

Peter clawed at the comforter and managed to rip it from Toni’s fists. The girl hissed and curled into a ball in response. “Don’t yell at him. He’s doing what you programmed to and he’s looking out for you. Now, with all that drinking did you forget what today is?”

“Today is ‘Get the hell out of Toni’s room before she murders you’ day.”

“Today is the day of the Iron Stomach for Africa fundraiser.”

Toni groaned in response, her body curling tighter. “Can I just take a day off?”

“Do you know how difficult it was to get the Ritz to agree to this?”

Her chocolate eyes opened and glared at him as she turned her head. “I’m one of the richest people in the world, the leading industry in energy. It couldn’t have been that freaking difficult, Peter.”

“We can’t cancel again, Toni. As your publicist, that’s a very unwise move. You already have some of the public viewing you in a bad image after destroying half the city-”

“Loki and his alien pals destroyed the city. The Avengers saved it. So there was some collateral damage. Big deal. I paid for much of the damage anyway.” Slowly, Toni’s body unfurled as she stretched her arms and legs. Her chest flexed up at down, the bright blue arc reactor in between her breasts thrusting in the air before she laid back on the mattress, looking up lazily at the aggravated publicist still at her bedside.

“You gonna get up?”

“You gonna get the hell out?”

“Only if you get up.”

“You’re new to this ‘try waking a heavy sleeper’ thing, aren’t you?”

Peter’s noose scrunched as his face twisted in confusion. Toni’s eyes rolled as she swung her legs out of the bed and stood. “JARVIS, explain, please. I can’t handle idiocy this morning.”

“It’s 11am, Miss. Fast food eateries have begun serving lunch already.”

“You’ll sound lovely in some teenage punk’s car stereo, JAR.”

Peter turned on his heels, and Toni took the opportunity to drink the man in. Yes, she preferred the Spiderman spandex, but that would be perfect tabloid material if she made him parade around the Tower in that. Damn. “I don’t want to know, JARVIS, but thanks. See to it Miss Stark gets ready, please.”

“Excuse me?” Toni pointed a dark red nail to the ceiling. “My program, my orders.”

“You’re still hung over. Not coherent to give orders,” he said, standing at the door and giving her a smirk.

“I can order your ass tossed out of my building.”

“Our building. I get 15% credit, remember? Besides, you love me too much.”

Toni shrugged. “Assuming gets you nowhere, Peter. Now, get over here and give me a smooch.”

“Still hung over, Toni.” With that, the steel door slid shut behind him and the girl was alone.

“You sure your cousin Mary-Jane would appreciate that last statement?”

Toni shrugged. “Probably not. Anyway, just tell me what you got laid out for me, JAR.”

“For this evening, I dug way back and chose a classic black cocktail-”

“Cocktail…I could go for one of those.” She sauntered over to the left front corner of the room where her mini-fridge sat, digging in the back.

“Do you really wish to have ‘hair of the dog’, Miss?”

She pulled out a carton of Ocean’s Spray cranberry juice. “Juice cocktail, dear. Juice cocktail. Anyway, I say nix the black cocktail dress for this evening. It may be classic but this is my first formal event since the big battle. I have to make good headlines.”

“Should I call the doctor, Miss?”

“A shock to you as well, eh? If I’m going to do this, I’m going to do this right. Everyone has to be on their best behavior.” She sipped at her class of juice and looked out the large floor-to-ceiling, wall-to-wall window at the city. Lunch rush hour was just beginning. People were going about their lives as if the Chitauri attack never even happened.

“What would you like me to lay out then, Miss?”

“Something long, dazzling, maybe a red number. It needs to be something that stands out.”

“Even though it’s a masquerade ball, Miss?”

“Like I’m going to be the only person in a bright gown. JAR, are you infected with some virus or something? You’re more of a smart ass than usual.”

“It’s from being in your presence, Miss.”

She took another sip as her eyes looked across the tops of the other skyscrapers. Several blocks down a crane was swinging a steel beam up to the uppermost floor. “Flattery gets you nowhere.”

“Miss, Mr. Parker is requesting your presence in the downstairs lobby so you can go look into the layout of the Ritz for the benefit tonight. He’s being rather adamant.”

She rolled her eyes and snapped her fingers. The windows went to black as she stepped into her rather large walk-in closet. “Just his journalistic nature, keep pestering until they give up. Tell him I’m up and getting ready.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

“Jesus. I said nature colors, people. Since when is deep purple a natural color?”

Toni sank into an elegant chair and ran a hand over her face. Peter was at her side in a minute. “I said no idiocy this early in the morning.”

“That’s not even the worst of it. The flowers still aren’t here. The caterers got the wrong kind of meat for the main meal. Also, the DJ got a flat tire.”

Her devil red lips curled into a snarl. “Do you have any good news for me?”

Peter handed her a small salmon-colored parcel. She could smell the beef from inside it. “I got your shawarma.”

“Did I ever tell you you’re my favorite?” Her nails dug at the package before pulling away the foreign wrap, taking a massive chunk out of it and chewing before speaking again. “If you have to, hire more crew to help with the flowers. Get a tow truck to the DJ. As for the meat, we’re going to have to deal with that. It’s a charity benefit, for God’s sakes. We spend all our money on this petty shit trying to impress people to give money when we should just donate the damn money ourselves. It’d save time and effort…and  
admittedly money.”

“Ass-kissing and face-saving?”

“Not to mention gossiping. You can’t forget that.”

She heard Peter chuckle. “Like old women.”

“Who are you calling old?”

“Older than me.”

“Younger than Steve.”

“Everyone is younger than Steve.”

She pursed her lips to keep from laughing at her right-hand-man’s quip before looking around, gathering her energy to stand. Her eyes skimmed over the workers doing their jobs. For someone who was used to speeding through her day, these people were going agonizingly slow. “Come on, people. Hustle! I have press coming soon, and you really don’t want to be a major part of the reason Toni Stark has a bad press day!”

Peter looked her up and down as they walked towards the lobby of the ritzy hotel, pun intended, of course. He raised a brow. “I’m sure they’ll get a field day out of you alone. You’re at the Ritz and you’re dressed in black skinny jeans and an AC/DC baseball tee. You should look semi-professional.”

“Professionalism is for squares,” she whined, bringing up her lithe fingers and framing Peter’s face in the square her index fingers and thumbs made, “Just like you.”

“Someone needs to balance you out.”

“Oh, and you do such a brilliant job at it, Parker. Remember when I first hired you? You did everything I said. What happened to my little kiss-ass?” she teased, pinching his cheek.

“I worked for you and became a realist,” he muttered, swatting her fingers away.

“A realist who still parades through New York in spandex?”

His blue eyes rolled behind his glasses. “It’s lighter than that gaudy thing you call a suit.”

“Mine has an HUD built into it and protects me from harm. Need I remind you Stark Industries was once the leading weapons manufacturer on the planet? I have everything I could need in that ‘gaudy’ thing. Lucky for you no one’s been smart enough to just shoot your ass.”

“Excuse me?”

“Did you pass gas? Come on now, have some more class, Parker.” She shot him an arrogant smirk as she leaned against the check-in desk.

A petite girl appeared on the other side of the desk a few moments later. Her blond hair was in a pixie cut, framing her face and wide jungle eyes in a manner that made her look like she was a deer trapped in headlights. “Yes, Miss Stark?”

“I’m checking on a delivery order. Are my flowers here yet?”

“Let me check with receiving, ma’am.”

“Please and thank you, Tinkerbell.”

Peter cocked his head towards his boss, peering at her. “Did you not hear me ten minutes ago? They’re not here yet. Have patience.”

“Patience is a virtue I lack. We’re on a strict time-frame here.”

“Had you not gotten drunk last night we wouldn’t be working on such a strict time-frame.”

“Had I not gotten drunk last night I’d have been even bitchier than I am.” She caught his raised eyebrows and shrugged. “You know I’m right.”

“Unfortunately.”

Tinkerbell appeared from the back again. “Miss Stark? There’s two trucks out there from the florist, both for the Iron Stomach event.”

Toni grinned and nodded towards the girl, her long brown locks bouncing slightly. “See? That’s why you should have faith, trust, and a little pinch of pixie dust. Thanks, Tink.”

The timid voice chirped, “My name is Fiona…”

“I like Tink better.” She cringed her nose as the girl tried handing her the clipboard. “I really don’t like being handed things. Parker, you wanna sign for that and get it all set up? I’ll send out a couple of the crew to help.”

Peter just had a faint smile on his lips as he reached to Fiona for the delivery clipboard, watching as the CEO strutted into the ballroom.

In the ballroom, Toni pointed at eight guys, six of whom were on ladders hanging decorations from the ceilings. “I need muscle out there carrying in my flowers ASAP. Come on, boys, we have to move.”

Grumbles responded to her orders as they clamored down the ladders. Toni watched to make sure each of them got down safely, her eyes narrowing on one by the balcony on the upper floor. Delicately, almost expertly, he swung his legs around the top rungs of the ladder and landed on the thin railing, stepping onto the floor without so much as a simple slip of footing. Had it been the gymnastics portion of the Olympics, she’d have given him at least an 8 out of 10.

She shook her head. Why in the hell was she focused on one guy? Other people probably did that all the time. There was just something about him that drew her gaze there.

They paraded past her, their jaws locked and eyes forward, more than likely to keep from grumbling or ogling the “Woman of Metal” as Thor so affectionately referred to her. The gymnast was trailing a few yards behind, and he locked gazes with hers. He had deep green eyes. She could see traces of black hair under the painter’s cap. Was that…a smirk on his lips as he sauntered past her? He definitely looked familiar. Almost like-

“No,” she breathed, shaking her head violently to break her thoughts. “It can’t be.”


End file.
